


By Our Side

by taoroo



Series: In this place, forever [2]
Category: Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Feels, Domestic Discipline, Hurt/Comfort, Parental couples and their dysfunctional child, Spanking, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 07:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15658647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taoroo/pseuds/taoroo
Summary: Philippe struggles to understand his place in the world. Isabeau and Navarre help him.





	1. Chapter 1

I am not, my Lord, a man of meticulous hygiene, as well you are aware. Oh, I keep myself clean, wash when I must and all that, but to be fastidious is not in my nature. Milord and lady recognised that not long into my attempts at butlering, and so I buttle no more.

Neither do I possess a thumb, green or otherwise, that could be turned to my Lord’s bounty in a pleasing manner. Weeds and pretty flowers are one in the same to me, but when she saw my attempts at gardening milady was certainly able to discern which plants should and should not have been uprooted.

The hounds and I are… well… a mouse may never be welcome among them and nor would he care to be. After tending one too many nips to my person it was decided that houndsman I most certainly was not.

As for the kitchen, when sent running from its grounds once again, pots hurled at my unfortunate head by the demoness Nanette, my lord looked up from his place at the fire and determined with that wry grin of his that it be best all round if I did not further court the sweet cook’s ill temper.

And so here I am, Philippe Gaston, the Mouse: thief extraordinaire, only man to have ever broken free of the prisons of Aquila only to have broken back in not a week later. Esquire to his lordship, Captain of the guard Navarre, and his lady Isabeau, the fairest woman to grace this blessed earth. Esquire of _what_ exactly is my current conundrum, for my lord and lady require no thief, and owning one’s own fool is quite out of fashion.

So I am, Lord, for want of a better word, in a sulk. It has been but a few weeks since Navarre’s sword felled the Bishop; that heinous fiend who laid the dread curse upon my dear masters. In the days following Navarre took back his place within the guard and Isabeau hers at court, both taking in their stride the transition from beast to noble as one would expect such a great lord and lady.

As for your lowly Mouse, well, I found myself at a loss. To go back to thievery was my plan of course, but to my masters such a goal was out of the question. I had found myself gone but a few paces from the cathedral doors, Imperious at my side, when the two caught up with us, having quite decided my fate.

“You will come with us, little rogue, and there shall be no argument,” Navarre had said to my protests, his light eyes fixed upon me in such a stern manner that I couldn’t help but obey.

“You do want to live with us, don’t you, dear Mouse?” Milady had added, her gentle face alight with hope.

Well, my Lord, faced with such a pair what was a lowly Mouse to do?

I slumped against a wall, having fled the manor that morning, eager not the be beneath my lady’s feet. My days stretched out before me, filled with idleness and dreadful sloth, about as interesting as a grass pie and just as suited to my taste. Oh, I am not ungrateful, my Lord! Of course, how could I be? With a fine bed and a room of my own, clean clothes and a full belly, and wonderful company besides.

I had made pains to give the reunited lovers their space since the curse had broken, taking pleasure in their joy of each other and allowing them their privacy. We would come together to eat our evening meal, and I would entertain my masters with story and song, taking care to slip away once the meal was done so as not to overstay my welcome.

I scratched at the wounds upon my chest, the last of the scabs now close to falling, leaving only pink lines in memory of a sadder time in my masters’ lives. The only other memento was milady’s brooch, a wolf’s head of carved wood, blue glass for its eyes. A silly gift given by a silly Mouse. I am quite surprised, and touched, that Isabeau still chose to wear it. Given the loss of near all their worldly possessions when struck by the curse I assume it is only for lack of a better alternative. Their manor is mostly bare of possessions as yet, milady’s dowry in contention with a distant cousin or some such. I had not heard the particulars, my masters’ study doors being too inconsiderately thick to hear a proper conversation through.

Not that they lived in poverty. Navarre’s stipend from the guard was substantial. At least, it was far more money than I had ever seen. Still, they did not need to squander their wealth on a man who could not earn his keep.

 _What to do, what to do?_... My eyes roved the market stalls and my legs naturally followed. I spent some time, my mind empty as I browsed the wares on offer. Eventually I spied a pretty brooch, one far nicer than that wolf’s head, and much more expensive besides I had no doubt. I picked it up, inspecting the workmanship.

“You’ll put that back down if you know what’s good for you, boy.”

I looked up, startled by the merchant’s crass tone.

“That’s a fine way to speak to a customer,” I said, my tone lightly scolding. I kept my smile in place, hoping honey would sweeten the man’s obvious distaste for me.

The man looked me up and down with a sneer, and gave a nasty laugh. He was well-dressed and coiffed, but clearly a man of greater self-importance than true wealth. “Customer? You? Don’t be ridiculous boy.”

“For your information I had almost decided to make you an offer,” I lied. _Forgive me, Lord, but his tone did sting my pride_. “But now I see you’d rather be without my patronage.”

The merchant laughed again, and to my shame I heard some from nearby stalls joining in.

“Where’s your money then? You don’t even have a purse on you, ragamuffin. Now put down my wares before I call the guard.”

I could feel my ears burning. “Very well!” I snapped, slamming the brooch down none too gently upon the table. I turned on my heel, aiming to stride off with as much dignity as I could muster, but felt my arm snatched before I could move.

“Here, wait you scoundrel, you’ve broken it!” the merchant snarled.

I turned wide-eyed to the brooch but saw nothing amiss. “You’re seeing things, old man,” I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to shake him free. “There’s nothing wrong with your silly brooch.”

“I say it’s broken, and you’ll pay for it if you know what’s good for you!”

“Well here’s a fine to do,” I retorted, some heat in my words, I do confess, “first you say I haven’t the coin to pay for your blasted frippery and now you say I do. Which is it, glutpurse, or can’t you make up your mind?”

Now, Lord, insulting the man did feel quite wonderful, as ill advised as I knew it was, but I was pleased with the shock on his face and the colour he turned; near purple with rage he was! An angry man is a man who will cause a scene, and in that scene comes an opportunity for a Mouse to slip away unnoticed as long as he could direct attention on to some other poor soul. As I had started I felt I might as well continue in that manner, eager and spoiling for a fight. A crowd was gathering, and soon I would have my moment…

“What goes on here?"

My grin froze, another insult half-way across my tongue. I could feel my blood drain at that voice, Lord, and the merchant saw it too. He gave me a nasty smile, quite calmed now that help had arrived, blast it.

We both turned to Navarre, the Captain striding through the crowd that parted before him like Moses and the waters.

“What good timing, sir,” the merchant blustered. “I demand you arrest this scoundrel. He’s damaged my goods and refuses to pay.”

The anger that had fled from me came rushing back at that. “There’s nothing wrong with your blasted trinket,” I snapped. Though, Lord, if I had truly said ‘blasted’ and not another, far more vile word in its place then perhaps milord would not have turned such a ferocious eye upon me. I shut up right quick after that, ignoring the smug merchant who gladly told his tale from the beginning.

The longer he listened the stormier milord’s gaze became and the smaller I felt under it. He lifted the brooch to inspect it and – oh.

_…Had that part always bent that way?_

“Is this true?” he asked me, his words a growl.

A mad impulse came upon me to joke that the good Captain was no longer a wolf, so there was no need to growl so, but I rather fancied my hide where it was. My eyes were fixed upon his and I could not help but tremble beneath the gathered stormclouds.

“I…” I swallowed, my mouth dry. _What could I say? Come on, Mouse, think! You always had the right tale to tell!_

But Navarre had made his decision. He turned to the merchant, placing the brooch gently upon the table, a hand upon his purse.

“How much?”

The merchant blinked in surprise and looked between us cautiously. No doubt he wondered why the captain of the guard was offering to pay the way of a grubby street urchin. I miserably wondered the same myself.

“Twenty livre.”

I boggled at the man in disbelief. _The nerve of him!_ “What rot! It’s worth no more than five!” I said, pressing toward the cad in merchant’s clothing, full eager to say my piece.

My arm was caught for a second time, but this time the grip was solid iron.

“Return home, Philippe,” Navarre said, his voice and gaze both terrifying stern.

I must be wandered because I did not – could not – back down. “But he—!”

Milord moved so quick I saw only a blur. I was spun to the side, facing what was still a sizable crowd, the captain’s hand remaining upon my arm. A crack resounded throughout the square and I was driven up on to my toes by the force of the swat it heralded. I yelped and snatched at my burning rear, hardly a pause before I was swung back to face the Captain.

“Go home,” Navarre ordered, apparently fine able to ignore the crowd who’d begun to hoot and jeer as soon as they’d got over their surprise. “Wait for me there.”

I bit back another angry retort, my face flaming with mortification. Dropping my hands to my sides and clenching them into fists I hurried away from the catcalls, my head hung in shame.

I let my feet take me where they wanted, anywhere as long as it was away from that blasted crowd. _Go home? Hah! A fool’s errand, that, and Lord, if You remember, fools are out of fashion._

I pleased myself for a time stamping about the lower streets of Aquila, entertaining my simmering temper with quite horrid daydreams of greedy merchants and their comeuppances. _I know that only You can judge the wicked, Lord, but a man must have his pleasures._

Speaking of pleasures…

I stopped outside a public house, my throat parched. Remembering my lack of coin I huffed a leery sigh.

_Oh, blast it! What harm would a little filching do? I could hardly be in worse trouble. Perhaps this was for the best, at any rate. I could start out anew, perhaps steal a horse and be on my way to Pullum or Lepus before nightfall. Mayhap I would go to sea after all, become a pirate. Philippe the Mouse would be no more, Philippe the… the... well, I am not certain, Lord, what manner of beasts live out at sea, but I am certain I shall find a fitting title!_

I was casting about for a suitable mark when a cry of my name alerted me.

“Philippe? Philippe Gaston, is that you?”

I turned to see who had called out, ready to run if needs be. I recognised the face from a time in my not-too-distant past and cracked an easy smile. _What luck!_

“Jean-Pierre, is that you? My you’ve gown fat!”

Jean-Pierre gave a hearty guffaw, as I knew he would, and slapped his vast belly with pride. “The birds have been ripe these last few months,” he bragged, “and I’m just the one to pluck’em.”

“Tell me more,” I said, slinging an arm about his shoulders and leading him toward the inn.

“Where have you been, lad?” Jean-Pierre asked, letting himself be led, amiable old drunkard that he was.

I gave the old thief a charming smile, the one he’d taught me, in-fact. “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it, my friend.”

~

I woke and immediately regretted it. My head hurt more than it had ever done in all my life and my belly—ooh. Was I on a ship? The world rolled and roiled. Had I run away to sea after all?

I was in a bed. _Was it mine? No. It couldn’t be, I didn’t have a bed. Not anymore._

That thought sobered me right up, leaving a numb melancholy behind it along with my churning gut. I pressed my eyes tight closed. _Sleep. Perhaps I could sleep for a thousand years. Where was a bishop to curse you when you needed one?_

Oh. Of course.

I flinched as something cool and wet was pressed gently to my aching head, wiping the sweat from my brow and soothing away the pain. I leant into the cloth, happy for its blessing, but the next moment good sense made my eyes snap open.

“Hush, little Mouse,” Isabelle crooned. She dabbed at my cheek with the cloth then lay it upon my brow. “You poor thing.”

I stared at milady in stupor for a long moment, my muddled thoughts twisted up like twine. “Why are you doing this?” I finally asked, for I’m sure I could not fathom her kindness. I winced; my throat was raw and sounded dreadful next to her melodious tones.

“Shh,” the angel murmured, stroking at my cheek. “Sleep, sweet boy.”

I tired to fight the urge, but could only obey in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit longer than the first but I didn't want to break it's natural flow. I'm loving these three characters right now, please let me know what you think! T x

When next I woke it was full morning, the sun risen above the rooftops outside my room. I cared not a bit, huddled beneath my blankets, my mood as sour as my stomach. I reached up, gingerly touching a pretty-sized egg of a lump upon my temple, fingers coming away with dried blood. My jaw too, hurt like the blazes, and I was cert’ I’d had more teeth than that last night.

I flinched as the door opened. Had milord come to finish the beating now that I was in more a sober mind to appreciate it? Or perhaps he had just come to tell me to pack my things… not that I had any to speak of, that is.

I heard the settling of a tray upon the tabletop, the smell of porridge lingering in the air.

I did not turn. Could not face her.

“You must be hungry,” I heard Isabeau say, her voice so full of kindness that it pricked my eyes. I could not turn. _I could not_.

There was a pause, long and dreadful, and then milady sighed.

“I shall be downstairs, when you are ready.”

I waited until the door was shut behind her and then slowly sat up from my bed. My body ached, a dozen scrapes and bruises protesting. I bit off a groan. Milord cert’ had been full thorough.

The smell of the porridge tempted me, but I could not be put off on my quest. Quickly rubbing at my eyes, I pulled back my bedclothes and stood. Moving as silent as the mouse I took my name from, I opened the window of my room and slipped out onto the roof. It was an easy escape, one I’d had planned since the day I had come here, knowing it would one day be needed.

The outer walls of the mansion were too high for me to scale, and so I made my way along the side of the house. A quick stop at a loose brick where I had a bag stashed with a few odds and ends – a knife, some livre, a traveller’s cloak – and I was on my way.

I paused at the manor gate, deciding upon my heading and taking a deep breath of freedom. Ouch. Perhaps not such a deep breath. I massaged my bruised ribs. _Brute of a Captain!_

“Where are you away, Philippe Gaston?”

I jumped near out of my skin! There, to the side of the gates, sat Isabeau upon a stool, some darning in her hands, her lovely face pinched in concentration. She did not look at me as I fumbled for some excuse, hiding my bag behind my back, ridiculous though that idea was.

“Would you have guessed it,” I started, feigning a carefree tone, “I have been called to help another ill-fated pair, cursed by a wicked witch.”

Isabeau’s perfect brow quirked upward, but still she did not look at me. “A witch this time?” she said, her voice filled with fond amusement.

“A wicked one,” I nodded emphatically. “This tragic pair have been cursed, he to face north, and she to face south, doomed until they can face each other again and so break the spell.”

“A terrible fate,” Isabelle said solemnly.

She was humouring me, I knew fine well, but ah, if only I could keep her laughing perhaps she would forgive my misdeeds.

“Yes, indeed. And so they have begged the favour of the great Philippe the Mouse, to steal for them the witch’s magic mirror, that they might look into it and see each other, and be broken of the curse.”

“A noble quest, indeed,” Isabeau said, coming to her feet and taking hold of my hand to drag me back along the manor path before I could think to resist. “Such a quest deserves a proper send off, and we shall fit you with a gallant steed. For if you are determined to go, dear, sweet Mouse, then we must do all we can to see you safely on your way.”

My heart fell at her sad words, my feet stumbling to a halt. “Milady, I thank you for your kindness, but I really would rather be on my way,” I fumbled.

“Nonsense, you must at least wait until Navarre is returned.”

I shook my head, fear making me stubborn. “Milady, please. I know you mean well, and milord is in his rights to finish what he started, but the Lord knows I am a coward, and I would much sooner be away before his return.”

Isabeau stared at me, her perfect brow marred by a frown. Then her mouth clicked shut, eyes flashing with anger. I tried to skip away from her advance but was not fast enough to avoid her hand as it took a tight grip of my ear.

“Ahhh! Milady, please, I beg you! Have mercy!” I babbled, stumbling along after Isabeau and my poor ear.

“Hush,” Isabeau snapped, saying no more as she led me into the manor. I quailed at that one word and the harsh bite behind it, unable to twist myself free from my ladyhawke’s talons.

She released my ear as we entered the kitchens, pointing me to a chair at the simple table where I usually broke my fast alone. I sat without question, my heart in my throat.

“That will be all for today, Nanette,” milady said to the cook. “I shall see to the evening meal.”

Nanette gave me a stern look, all narrowed eyes and pursed lips. I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “As you wish, my lady,” she said with a curtsey, making to leave, but pausing on the threshold. “The larger spoons are in dresser,” she added.

Isabeau gave a secretive smile and inclined her head. “Thank you, Nanette.”

Mystified by the odd exchange I was unprepared for when milady rounded upon me, skewering me to my seat with her piercing gaze.

“What do you remember of last night?”

I blushed in shame, knowing I had been most rascally drunk. My memory was clouded, jumping alarmingly from that terrible scene at the market to… a tavern?... then nothing until…

“You… soothed my head?” I began tentatively.

“Nothing else?”

I bit my lip, quickly spitting it out when it sparked a bruise, and shook my head instead.

Isabelle drew a quick breath through her nose and let it out again, her hands upon her hips. “Navarre returned home to find you gone. We both went searching for you but could find no trace. I came back here to wait, in case you might return, but Navarre remained out searching.”

I swallowed, guilt surging in my belly at the thought. I caused these two nothing but trouble.

“It was nearly midnight when Navarre returned, carrying you. I thought at first that you were dead...” Isabeau pressed her lips tightly together and looked away, the sorrow in her eyes driving a lance straight through my broken heart. “He had found you in a tavern, brawling, surrounded by men twice your size. He—”

— _beat them back_ , I remembered suddenly, _snarling and raging like a wounded wolf. Five, six, seven men, all big brutes and most armed with knives or broken bottles, and my Captain faced them all. For me._

I hung my head, shame washing over me. How could I have suspected Navarre of hurting me? After all that these two wonderful people had done for me, a worthless gutter mouse. Lord, I do not deserve their kindness. My hands were shaking and I clutched them together, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. I flinched when milady took my chin, unable to stop the tears from falling when I met her lovely gaze.

“I… I am…”

She shushed me, barely a whisper between her perfect lips. Then she leant forward and kissed me upon my forehead, drawing me up into her arms. She held me there for a time and then drew back, whispering into my ear before she took a seat at the table.

I winced at her soft directions, a sob catching in my throat as I obeyed. My trousers fell in a sorry puddle at my feet but I fumbled with the lacings of my smalls, still a new oddity for me, a luxury I’d never had before.

She was patient, but the moment the lacings were loose she took my arm and pulled me across her lap.

The position was… not comfortable. Her legs were soft but nowhere near as broad as Navarre’s. She pulled a second chair closer, bidding me rest my head upon its seat, padded, I realised, with milady’s shawl. I clutched it to me, drinking in her sweet scent, letting my tears fall and stain the fabric. Another mark against me. _Why must I blight all that I touch?_

I shivered when she drew my smalls down to my knees, the cold air cooling my skin, flushed with mortification. Her hand rested upon my poor rump for but a moment, before it left and then sharply connected once more.

I flinched, but truly it was nothing like the blows milord had dealt me when last I was in this wretched position. I shuddered through the next half dozen, the sting more in my heart than my backside.

The next slap caught me off guard, and I yelped, gasping at the sudden pain.

“Ah, there we are,” Isabeau sounded amused, “forgive me, dear Philippe. We are both new to this, are we not?”

I sucked in a breath to reply but cried out instead when her hand fell once more. Swiftly I nodded, unable to speak, my tears scattering upon the shawl.

She paused, dear lady, and stroked my hair, light fingers tracing the lumps and bumps of my nighttime folly.

“Dear little Mouse, do not tremble so. You are due a sincere smacking, my love, but do you really think that we could ever hurt you? Did you truly believe that my husband _could_ hurt you, after everything that you have done, after all you mean to us?”

“Yes!” I sobbed, for it is the truth, Lord. “Yes. Of course. You will. You must!”

I wrapped my arms over my head and sobbed wretchedly. How many times had this happened? How many times had I been granted something, Lord, only to mess it all up and throw it away? You know the answer, for You have seen it all. This wretched mouse is good for nothing, and the sooner these beautiful, noble people realise it the better.

It had never hurt this much before, though. The shards of my heart were cutting me from within. My shame and regret tearing me apart. And so I wept. Oh, how I wept.

Above me, through my tears, I heard milady sigh, and a moment later my backside exploded in pain. Isabeau spanked like a demoness, her hand more like a strap than flesh; hard and supple and stinging mightily.

I arched up, my legs kicking straight out behind me, my hands twisting the shawl in a desperate attempt not to cover myself from her blows. My tears fell fast and fat, blinding me, quickly falling for the sake of my pain rather than my feelings of despair.

She struck in such a way for a long, long time, nothing to be heard but my cries and our breaths, both soon winded by the struggle. Finally, she paused – _praise be!_ – and rested her hand upon my bottom once more.

“M-muh- my lady!” I protested, feeling the heat of her palm. “I beg you, p-please, do not hurt yourself on my account. I can- cannot bear—”

I choked and bellowed, another swift volley of smacks landing upon my tender thighs. Oooh how it stung! I could not bear it, but I _must_ bear it. This was what I had invited. What I _deserved_.

Isabeau paused again, her breath short from that brief flurry. “How many times,” she said, catching her breath, “how many times must we tell you, dear Mouse, that we do this because we love you?”

I bit down upon my lip, hard enough for the skin to break. Violently I shook my head. No. No! It wasn’t true! How could it be true? These two, these blessed, wonderful souls, couldn’t… I was not, could _never_ be worthy…

Her hand fell again and oooh! I howled, far too breathless and shaken to keep my hurt within. If not now then when? I can’t. I can’t bear…

“Can’t bear what, sweet boy?”

I gasped, shaking, trying so hard, Lord, to keep my thoughts my own. But You know I am a weak and worthless mouse, and I had taken all that I could.

“I can’t bear to wait,” I sobbed wholeheartedly. “I can’t bear it. Please. Please just be done with me. I can’t bear it. The sooner…” I choked, sucking in a harsh breath, my lungs aching, “…the sooner you are done with me the happier you shall be.”

Her hand stopped falling and milady sat very still.

“I bring you nothing but sorrow,” I wept. Now the gate was open the wolf could truly get among the sheep. “I’m a good for nothing churl. Why? Why do you keep me? You have repaid whatever small debt to me a hundred times over. You—”

I could say no more. Isabeau, with strength I had forgotten my fair lady possessed, swept me up, her arms wrapped tightly about me. A hand pressed into my hair, catching my locks while the other grasped my tunic tight.

I shuddered and gulped away my tears, trying to fight back more. _Be strong Mouse, she is done with you now. Be a man about it for goodness sake._

After a long pause Isabeau sat me back, settling me upon her lap like a child. When she took my face in her hands and looked at me I caught my breath. Milady was weeping!

I stuttered. I had nothing to say.

“Milady,” I ventured, a jolt of horror coming over me at the thought, “Are you hurt?”

She huffed a laugh at that and wiped quickly at her eyes, then, shocking me once again, she smothered my face in kisses, some on my cheeks and nose, more on my eyelids and lips. I sat in horror, frozen.

_Navarre was going to kill me!_

I was vaguely away of milady speaking, and tried my hardest to hear what she said, as choked and hushed as her words were.

“Hurt? Hurt? Of course I am, ridiculous boy. Oh, my hand is fine, stop your fussing. It is my heart. Of course my heart is breaking my dear, sweet, silly Mouse. Did you really think we kept you here out of obligation? I have told you, sir, and I will tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, we _love_ you, you silly ass. I love you, and Navarre loves you. You are a brother to us, you frustrating, naughty, wilful little brat. We will not turn from you, we will not cast you out. Though we may have to spank your silly hide every day of our lives we will do so, and gladly! Now stand up! Etienne shall be home before long and you have much to think about before he does. Up. Up! Little brat, don’t sit there gawping. My legs have gone quite to sleep! There. Now, to the corner with you. And don’t you dare touch your naughty bottom until I give you leave!”

I obeyed milady in a daze, barely taking in her words and understanding less. I would have tripped over my smalls if she hadn’t pulled them from me, and so I shuffled, still in my boots and feeling fully ridiculous, to the corner of the room.

Ooh, my backside smarts, Lord. I should never have underestimated my lady, still as fierce as a hawk beneath that angelic beauty. I sniffled, trying not to squirm, but my bottom throbs so much I can hardly bear it! My tunic, thank goodness, covers me at the front but, ohh, it brushes at my poor backside with every breath.

Think, Mouse, distract yourself! What had milady said? I had much to think about before Navarre returned. Navarre! Oh Lord! Save me from the Captain’s hand. Would he spare me a thrashing given the circumstances? He was cert’ to see the state I was in the moment he arrived. Oooh! Mortifying. Wretched. Horrible, terrible position!

I could leave. I could still leave now, before I was pushed. But what had milady said? If I was not here out of obligation then why, Lord, was I here at all? I fail at everything I try at. The only exception has ever been my thievery. But then, my Captain had come for me at the tavern. He had fought for me, beaten back half a dozen men and carried me home. Isabeau has nursed me, dragged me back when I had tried to run when she could have easily let me go, turned me… turned me over her knees and paddled me like a child.

I flushed, shuddering at the thought. More tears fell in my frustration. Why? _Why, Lord?_

The back door opened and I heard a pair of heavy boots enter. I stood, still as marble and hardly breathing, my heart racing fit to burst.

I heard him pause, and closed my eyes tight shut more tears tumbling from my lashes.

“How he trembles,” milady said, her teasing tone still a little sad. _Bless me! Was she still sat at table? Had she been watching me this whole time?_

Milord hummed, a contemplative sound. I heard my masters’ kiss, a soft and heart-warming sound as it ever was. He set his sword down. Not his family sword, You see my Lord, which now hung in place over the mantle, but a shorter one meant to keep the ruffians of the city in check. The swish of his cloak followed, and his gauntlets – thank mercy – and then he sat and removed his boots.

I waited in trembling silence. Oh, yes, I do tremble, Lord, for it is well established that I am a coward.

Finally, too soon, too soon! He was walking toward me. My backside gave a warning throb and my heart clenched. _Courage, Mouse. If he had wanted to kill you he would have done so by now!_

“Well, young sir, are you ready to hear reason?” I heard milord ask. His tone was lightly scolding.

I focused my swimming gaze upon the woodwork before my nose. “I- I shall do whatever you a-ask, milord,” I said, sincerely.

“Hmm? You won’t fight me, or call me ugly names, or insult me?”

I gasped. “I would _never_!” _What folly!_

He did laugh then, even though I had quite missed whatever joke it was, and took my hand to pull me to face him. I looked up into those light eyes, as mesmerised by them as I’d been the very first I saw them.

“You have changed your tune from last night, little brawler,” he said, his hands upon my shoulders. “Am I no longer a wretched tyrant? Do you not still wish that I would… leave?”

_“Sod off”_ , I corrected in my mind with a hearty cringe, the memory flooding horribly back. Oh no. _Oh wretched Mouse!_ Navarre caught my guilty eye with a glint in his own and suddenly I was swept up! My stomach lurched, landing heavily upon his knee. I was in mid-air, Navarre holding me in place as my limbs flailed, his leg braced upon the rung of a chair. I gasped and struggled, not for wickedness, Lord, but to try and get my balance, settling in the end with grabbing hold of his sturdy leg and holding on with all my might.

Solid, hearty whacks landed upon my poor, red rear. It hurt monstrous bad and I howled long and hard. My head hung down, and my legs kicked freely, Navarre’s strong arm wrapped tight about my middle and holding me in place as easy as you please. I was crying again – of course I was – there was no helping it! Not when the gallant captain of the guard was whacking and whacking. I could see the edge of milady’s skirts from my position, still seated in her chair, watching this foolish Mouse getting what he deserved. Oh, and I did so deserve it. I had been most belligerent when my master had come to fetch me, worked into a nice rage by Jean-Pierre and his fellows.

_“But what’s this rumour that you’ve shacked up with some posh nobs?”_

_“I heard it was them’s what murdered the bishop. Blasphemy it was.”_

_I had scoffed into my cup. “The bishop was a devil-worshipper!”_

_“Don’t matter what he was, you can’t go ‘round murdering a man of God.”_

_“The Lord will judge ‘em, sure as sin. They’ll burn in Hell just like the rest of us, they will.”_

Well that had got me on a fine fettle and, well, I may have become a little saucy. Perhaps I might have even thrown the first punch… and several more after that, Lord, if I am being honest with You – which I always am, of course. I just could not bear to hear ill of my dear, sweet masters, and wasn’t that what an esquire did? Protect their master’s honour? Even if it turned out that my master had to protect me instead.

I pressed my eyes tight closed and gnawed on my lip, trying hard to keep my tears in check. _Useless. Useless mouse!_

Soft hands cupped my cheeks, the thumbs rubbing away my tears.

“Shh, dear one, no more of this,” milady said, her delicate fingers working my lip from between my teeth. I sobbed and pressed into her hands, seeking comfort though I knew I didn’t deserve it.

“You were angry, weren’t you, little mouse?” she asked me. “So very cross and sad. Won’t you talk to us, dear heart? Won’t you tell us why?”

Navarre was still spanking me, but his blows were slower now, more deliberate, his hand resting upon my scalded rump between each strike. It felt… nice, like he was giving me comfort. But why, why were they doing this? Could they not just finish it and get it over with? Why did we always have to _talk_? Why? _Why?_

“Why-yyy?” I howled, drumming my fists against milord’s leg and kicking, for all the good it would do. “Whywhywhy? Why do you carry on so? Why do you keep on at me? I’m good for nothing, I am. Don’t you understand? What use do you have for me? I have tried, masters, please, but I am no use to you. So why? Why do you keep asking ‘whyyyy’?”

I collapsed into a fit of sobs, angry tears flowing, my body far too aching and weary to hold myself up any longer. I felt myself lowered, pulled into Navarre’s strong arms, and resisted, but milord simply swept me up, as easy as a child. I was being carried, I knew not where. Perhaps outside to be thrown onto the streets? Finally, finally this wonderful nightmare would be over.

But instead of the cold of outside I felt the warmth of a fire grow closer. Navarre settled himself down. Ah. We were in the sitting room, he in his fine, high-backed chair, big enough to fit four scrawny mouses. I was sat upright, in his lap, held like a babe against his chest. I tried again to struggle free but his strong arms just held on tighter until I sank, exhausted, into his embrace.

“Listen to me, Philippe Gaston, and listen well,” Navarre said, his voice a stern rumble of distant thunder. “You seem to be mistaken, and I will have you understand this before we continue.”

I shuddered. _Continue? My backside could take no more._

“Philippe, answer me.”

I gulped and drew a shaky breath. “Yes, milord,” I mumbled against his jerkin, keeping my face pressed close to his broad chest.

Again I was pulled back with strong hands to my upper arms, unable to look away from those stormcloud eyes, fixed upon me so grimly.

“Philippe, when we asked you here to live with us, it was never as master and servant. We want you here with us because we love you, little one, and wish for you to live here as family, as our brother.”

I blinked, staring at my Captain in utter bewilderment. _What?_

Isabeau’s hand was on my cheek again, and the dear lady sat upon milord’s unoccupied knee, facing me.

_I do admit, Lord, that we seemed to fit quite well together in that chair._

“Dearest boy, we only want for you to be happy. But now I see you were so very sad. You were trying to please us these past weeks, weren’t you, Philippe? All that hiding away from us and trying so hard to be of use. Did you fear that we would cast you out if you did not find a place for yourself here? Was that why you were so sad?”

I nodded slowly, still confused. Why was she speaking as though that wasn’t the case?

Navarre’s hand came up to rub at the back of my neck, his fingers pressed soothingly into my hair there. “You silly ass,” he murmured, his tone fond. “Didn’t you think we meant it when we said we loved you?”

“Well, yes, of course,” I said carefully, “people say they love each other all the time.” I looked at their stunned faces and frowned at their confusion. “…Doesn’t everybody?”

Navarre was watching me with that ‘thinking’ face of his, the one where I’m certain he knows a joke that he ought to share.

“Mouse, where have you heard this before?”

I blinked. “Why… all the time, milord, when I lived at the tavern at least.”

Navarre’s brow raised slowly. “Was this a certain kind of tavern, perhaps? One with many… ladies in residence?”

_Good grief, what a question!_ My eyes darted to Isabeau and back again, my cheeks beginning to burn. I heard her giggle, but refused to look.

“Dear Philippe,” milady said, taking my chin and kissing my cheek fondly.

I quickly looked to Navarre but he didn’t seem to mind the kiss. He set hand hands upon my shoulders, gazing at me sternly beneath his snowy lashes. “Listen to me, my lad. To people like that, ‘Love’ may be a term of business, but to us, and to all good, decent folk, it means a great deal more.”

“Love is something special, shared only between the very dearest of friends,” Isabeau said, resting her head against mine. “Dear Mouse, when we say that we love you, that is forever, do you understand?”

Something inside me began to swell, filling me up fit to bursting. Of course, I had suspected this was the sort of love they were talking about, but my doubts had always outweighed my sense. I sucked in my breath, and gave a watery nod, burying my face into Navarre’s neck before my tears could flow over. His hand went back to stroking my neck and I melted into him with a hitching sigh.

“I am sorry for the market,” Navarre said after a while. He gave me a sad smile when I looked up at him, confused again. “You were embarrassed, weren’t you, little one? You have always been self sufficient, but we took those means and forgot to give you a stipend of your own, didn’t we?”

“That… That is not…” I blushed, flustered, quickly trying to sort my thoughts, “I do not need…”

“No more, little brother,” Navarre said, kissing my forehead and then my startled lips. “Forgive me but I intend to spoil you.”

“It is already decided,” said Isabeau, “You shall have ten marks each Sunday to spend how you wish.”

I sucked in a quick breath. _Almost a whole livre? Each week? For doing nothing at all? How could that be possible?_

“Can you wait that long?” I asked Navarre shyly, “it will be eight months before I can repay you.”

“Repay me?” milord asked with a quirk to his lips.

I nodded swiftly, looking away. _Oh, how wretched it was to have a conscience!_ “The brooch…”

He laughed, startling me. “That brooch cost me no more than five livre, as you so rudely pointed out,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way I rarely saw. “And you forget you are due two weeks in arrears.”

“Why, then I can pay you back in just six weeks!” I said happily.

My lord and lady shared a look of mild surprise, then both laughed, a wonderful sound.

“I should have known our little thief was a master at sums,” Isabeau said.

I blushed mightily, folding my arms before me. “It’s not so difficult, is it?” I muttered, feeling a little put out.

“Where in the world did you learn such a thing?” Navarre asked, still it seemed, surprised by my learning.

“Not in the world, right here, in Aquila,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t see how it comes as such a shock. It’s simple enough to do!”

“For one as wonderful as you, perhaps, my love,” Isabeau soothed, sobering. “We’re sorry for laughing, Philippe, will you forgive us?”

“I suppose so,” I pouted, earning myself a kiss on the cheek from the pair of them at once. They were so fond of kissing these two, but I suppose when you have spent two years without the company of the one person you very much want to kiss, it is only natural you make up for it after.

“That is settled then,” Navarre said, in all his authority as captain of the guard. “So, little mouse, is all clear? Will there be any more running away or hiding from your family?”

I blushed again and looked into their sincere eyes. I… thought I understood, Lord, though it was all so very strange to think. I gave a hesitant nod, seeing them both break into bright and happy smiles. I smiled myself, though shyly, glad to make them happy.

“You must promise to talk with us if you ever feel confused or sad again, dearest,” Isabeau said solemnly. “Can you do that, dear mouse?”

“I… shall try…” I said, “for you milady and milord.” I flinched as my ear was tweaked.

“No more of that,” Navarre said. “We both have names and you shall use them, little brother.”

“Yes, sir Wolf,” I responded cheekily, giving him a formal bow of my head. I turned to Isabeau, who giggled behind her hand, and bowed once more, “my Ladyhawke.”

Navarre huffed, his ill-humour false to judge by his sparkling eyes. “I think it high time we finish this then.”

My stomach dropped. “F-finish?”

Isabeau leant in, kissing me upon the head. “Be brave, dear brother,” she said before rising from her seat. Navarre kept a hold of her hand for a moment, kissing it, the pair looking at one-another with deepest love in their eyes. “I shall go and see to our luncheon.”

We watched her leave and I dearly wished to call her back to me. I swallowed mightily, then dared to look up to mil—Navarre.

He was watching me, his expression both amused and fond. Then he leant in and kissed my forehead.

“From now on, you shall call me Etienne,” he said, before flipping me over onto my stomach.

“Oh, nooooo!” I wailed softly, hushed by my terror. Not of the man but of what he was about to do. This would feel so terribly bad!

And it did! Oh, bless me it hurt so wicked bad. But somewhere it was hurting so wonderfully good too, a small, glowing weight in my belly like a hot meal after days of starving. It felt good to holler and kick, my arms gripping Nav— _Etienne_ so tightly yet trying to push away at once. But he didn’t falter, my—my _brother_ , and my flailing didn’t disturb his rhythm not one bit.

He smacked me solidly, awfully, wonderfully, for a long while, saying nothing, then, when I felt myself growing tired he finally spoke.

“Regardless of why you did it your actions yesterday are not to be tolerated.”

“N-nuh-no, sir!”

“Your words too, little guttermouth.”

“AH! AHH! YES— I mean, NO. No, sir!”

“My orders are not to be disobeyed.”

“Yes, sir. Never, never again!”

“You will not attend dirty taverns and drink yourself silly.”

“I won’t. I WON’T.”

“You will not get into brawls with anyone, especially those far bigger and stronger than you are. No matter how angry you are.”

“No, sir. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I SWEAR it!”

“You will not run away from us.”

“Never!”

“You will talk to us about what worries you!”

“I will. Oh, _please_. I will!”

“You are our brother, Philippe, and we shall never leave you.”

I sucked in my breath, ragged and panting. Tears fell in great waves from my eyes, my nose running freely. I wiped my face upon my sleeve and shuddered.

“Philippe.”

I wailed. Harder slaps were coming faster, right upon my sitting place.

“Yes! YES, SIR?”

“What are you to us?”

“I’m- I’m- your… I’m y-your _brother_ ,” I wept.

Etienne stopped spanking, resting his hot hand on my hotter backside.

“As I am yours. So, there is only one more thing for you to say, isn’t there, little penitent?”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, truly meaning it. “I’m sorry, E-Etienne. So sorry, b-brother.”

He patted my bottom tenderly and I shuddered again. We stayed in our places for a long while, the only noise my snuffles and the muffled sounds of Isabeau in the kitchen. Etienne smoothed his palm over my rump and I sighed shakily, truly understanding what love meant from these two wonderful people.

After a while, where I was beginning to drift to sleep or something like it, Etienne lifted me gently and sat me upon his knee in a way that avoided my bottom. He held me in place easily with one strong arm, his free hand smoothing the wild hair from where it stuck to my face.

“There, you stood that very well, dear one. I am proud of you.”

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes and he pulled me close, my head upon his shoulder. He rubbed my back, and rocked me then, humming a tune quietly.

“What song is that?” I croaked, my voice spent from yelling.

“None I know,” he replied, a hand stroking my head slow and wonderful. “But I felt like singing it, all the same.” With one last squeeze he eased me to my feet and held me before him as he stood. “Shall we find you a pair of trousers, little mouse, and wash your face before going to find our lady?”

_Our lady_. The words hummed around inside me like a song I didn’t know but liked the tune of very much. _Oh, Lord, I never dreamt it possible, not in all my days. If I had known my mother or father would I have felt like this?_ Even with the other brats I grew up with I never felt in my twice-mended heart what I do now.

Tears slipped down my cheek and I nodded, feeling my brother’s hand upon my nape, and let myself be led wherever he would take me.


End file.
